False Starts
by artlessICTOAN
Summary: Star sprinter Kase Tomoka's life has been slowing to a crawl for years, facing the looming jaws of depression and lacking motivation, she returns to her hometown to rest and find her purpose once more, where she happens across a sweet, shy woman whose life never really got started, perhaps together they can discover that it's never too late to start again. Kase-san fic
1. False Start

ahwww yeeeah new kase fic time yall! and it's gonna be a multi-chap one to boot! it's only about half planned atm, buuut we're looking at at least 10-15 chaps so far, possibly more depending on how it goes, look forwards to some truly horrendous update schedules folks

this is gonna be a slightly different take on kase (mostly bc depression and also just bc she's so much older in this and her life has gone quite differently without yamada there) but dw, we'll be seeing some of her old self coming back eventually!

(also i've had to make up names for characters like kase and yama's parents and mikawa's first name, if we ever get canon reveals then i'll go back and switch them out!)

really hope you enjoy, my lovelies!

* * *

"On your marks!"

The silence before the storm was always the hardest part.

Once the shot rang out, once the explosion of cheers and jeers, screams and muttered prayers started, it was easy, she could let her body do the rest – that was what it was trained for after all, what it was good at – but as she and her competitors settled into their starting blocks and a smothering hush fell across the stadium…

"Set!"

It was unbearable; her body might be so deeply entrenched in the art of sprinting that she could probably run in her sleep, but her mind still wasn't used to this atmosphere, even after all these years.

With nothing else to fill her mind, all the expectations – of her coaches, the crowd, her loved ones and herself – would slowly seep through the cracks in the dark places of her mind, a leak that would grow and grow and grow, until she was swimming in a thick sludge of all her own doubts and fears, kicking and clawing to keep her head above the surface, enough that she'd be able to hear the shot when it went off, the thick tension of an entire stadium's worth of anticipation threatening to force her body out of its ready position, the urge to lift her eyes from the ground beneath her, maybe catch a glimpse of the ref, see if the other sprinters were just as jittery as she was, how much longer could thi-

Her body reacted more on instinct than actual intent, leaping from the blocks even before she'd registered the noise. Thunder still rang through the large, echoing space, but she could barely hear it over the monstrous roar of spectators, or the harsh thud of her feet as they stabbed down into the track, material made harder with the sheer force of her strides, she could feel her legs wobbling slightly and grit her teeth as she tried to properly adjust.

Each breath was long and heavy, her lungs screaming white-hot fire at her, the edges of her vision began blurring away as she focused on the path ahead.

The end was so close, just a few more meters, one leg in front of the other, long, steady inhale every two steps, slow, controlled exhale for the next two, keep her core tight, elbows bent, head locked in position.

It was all second nature to her now, her body knew the movements, the precise angles that she'd been performing her entire life.

By now, she was blind to all but the bright, white line ahead, jolting forwards every time she pushed away from the ground, until finally, finally, it was gone, disappeared somewhere behind her and she could let herself slow and clutch at her chest as the world returned around her in a great crash of noise and colour and shape.

Her ears rang as she focused on her coach rushing towards her, a water-bottle in one hand and a towel in the other, she didn't even let him speak before grabbing at the bottle and downing half of it in one go – ignoring his 'tsk' and disapproving glare.

Taking a moment to savour the cold liquid soothing her flaming throat, she flashed a glance to the scoreboard.

Fifth place, 12.93 seconds, reaction time 0.302 seconds.

Sighing, she returned her attention to her drink – though she switched to taking small, slow sips rather than gulping it down. It was a bad time, but she'd known that even before she'd checked, even without seeing Ito-sensei's expression; she'd not given the race her all, probably not even her half if she was being really honest with herself.

Her legs hadn't been steady and her mind was too distracted to push herself to her limits, she'd run like she did during training… mindless, routine, empty.

Fingers snapped in front of her face, jolting her back to the present, to her coach looking torn between throwing one of his usual hissy-fits, or straight up turning around and walking away.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled a hand roughly down his face. "Just… cool down," he eventually muttered, throwing the towel over one of her shoulders, "go shake hands, smile for the camera, get some sleep. I want you at training six sharp in the morning."

She'd barely coughed out an acknowledgement before he spun on his heel and started towards one of the officials, no doubt paying his respects and congratulating her on a well-organised race. Taking one last sip, Tomoka broke into an easy jog, throwing a short congratulation to the victor as she passed by.

There was once a time when she would take any defeat as an opportunity to work harder, improve her technique, just run faster, until she was completely untouchable. But right now, she only wanted to go home and sleep.

* * *

Flopping back heavily, Tomoka let herself sink into her hard mattress, finally free from the stares and chatter of press and public and the loud drunkards on the train home.

Even though it'd been several hours now, she still wasn't feeling much of anything regarding her failure at the national track competition today. She was still waiting for it to hit her, all the disappointment and frustration to barrel into her psyche so hard she fell off the bed, but even as she waited in tense silence, nothing happened.

She opened eyes grungy with dust and sleep and stared blearily at the plain ceiling above her.

Well… that was it, her last chance at joining Japan's national team and she'd completely flunked it; seventh in the 400m, eighth in the 800m and now fifth in the 100m, no matter how you looked at it, it was a complete failure on all fronts.

Not that she really had any right to be disappointed about it – surely leading the Japanese team to gold in international competitions in her twenties would be enough for any reasonable person, what right did she have to be so greedy, wanting that glory all to herself, when there were other, younger, better qualified athletes out there who'd never even represented their country once.

It didn't matter now though, she'd already lost.

A small part of her was glad, an even smaller part of her was upset, but mostly she just felt dull, emotionless acceptance of a long-expected surprise finally shuffling past, making even less impact than anticipated.

She wondered what it said about her, that she was more concerned with the annoying blankness of her ceiling – so clean and smooth and boring, nothing to distract her at all – than she was at the latest slump in her career. At this point, it was just another stumble to add to her quickly-growing collection.

Still, the blanket of apathy that had settled lovingly over her body was warm and comfy, even if it did drain her energy and leave her wondering what the point of anything was anymore.

It would be a good idea for her to eat, she knew that, she could hear Ito-sensei's reedy voice nagging at the back of her mind, but that would require getting up, when all she wanted to do was lie here doing and thinking nothing, and it would mean trying to scrounge up something edible in a kitchen that hadn't been restocked for… how long was it now, two weeks? Three?

And, even on the off-chance she actually had something to eat buried in the cupboards, the way her stomach had curled into a tight ball in the centre of her chest suggested that anything she might swallow wouldn't get very far.

So instead she'd just lie here, in her uncomfortable jeans and jacket – still damp from the light rainfall outside – counting the excuses like a child might count sheep.

Being completely unconscious sounded so very appealing right now.

* * *

Tomoka growled at the cheerful jingle punching its way through the delicate fog of sleep she'd finally managed to encase herself in, stomping around her head, kicking away the delicate tendrils wrapped around her, screaming its joyful tune despite her hand slapping blindly at her alarm-clock.

It was only when one of her wild swipes knocked her phone off the table, that she realised the true source of the awful noise.

By the time she'd half crawled out of her bed to grab it back – quickly returning to the warm blankets and burrowing deep into them – the ringing had stopped, replaced with a blinking light helpfully notifying her that she had a missed call. She didn't need to check who it was from, this was the fourth time it had happened now, no doubt her coach would be utterly livid by now, probably red-faced and starting to throw equipment around the field she was supposed to have been training in for the last three hours.

She honestly hadn't intended to skip out on it, at no point had she made the conscious decision to not leave when she was supposed to, she just hadn't made the conscious decision to get out of bed and get ready either.

So now there were two options available to her; turn her phone off, bury her face back into her pillow and hope that maybe she'd be able to get at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep – something that had eluded her all night, even before her phone started jolting her awake – or face the music and call Ito-sensei back, put up with the rant that was sure to come and maybe even try getting up and finding something to eat if she was feeling adventurous.

Ten minutes later, she finally decided it would be less painful to just get it over and done with, rather than let her coach stew in his frustration any longer. Sighing deeply, she tapped the button to call him back, the urge to just hang up growing with every dreadful pause between rings.

She was starting to think he wasn't actually going to answer her call – some kind of karmic payback, he was fond of that sort of thing – when it finally cut to a fuzzy silence, distant calls and thudding of feet against a hard rubber track the only thing to let her know she'd gotten through.

Ah, the silent treatment then, well shit, he must be _really_ pissed.

"Ito-sensei, hey!" She plastered a wide grin onto her face, he wouldn't be able to see it, but maybe it'd make her voice sound lighter. "Look I'm really sorry about bailing on you like this, I should've called you to let you know earlier."

There was a slight shuffling sound, probably from a hand being wiped across a forehead, before he spoke, "I wish you'd come in today, this isn't a conversation one should have over the phone-"

"I think I'm just feeling a bit put-out by the championship results, y'know? Might've been out in the rain too long last night too, feeling a bit headachy-"

"Kase-"

"-I promise I'll be back tomorrow though, just need a day to get my head straight, catch up on some housekeeping, go grocery shopping, I'm running low, and you can't train on an empty stomach, right sensei? I bet a good meal tonight will have me ready to-"

"You're being dropped by Kaizen."

She blinked hard at her duvet, as though it might have answers for her, but it remained resolutely inanimate. "Oh."

A harsh huff of air crackled against her ear. "I've been warning you for months that they were losing interest, no one wants to sponsor a burnt-out star, you had to impress at the championships, that was your last shot with them," Ito said, somehow managing to walk the fine line between sympathetic and smug.

Tomoka had known this was coming, as she'd known many things were coming. She still didn't know how to feel though, there was no fury, no sadness, just the bored thought _of course they did, why wouldn't they, they should've done it months ago, hell, they really shouldn't've signed you in the first place, you were always going to let them down._

Even with yet another hit to her career, her life's passion, the news made her feel no different than if her coach had just informed her that national envelope sales were down.

"Well I guess that makes sense," she said, probably sounding far too happy, but she had far more practise faking joy than sorrow, "still, doesn't mean I can't keep running, right? Do I get to keep my old Kaizen gear or do I have to give it back? I mean it's all pretty worn now, dunno what they'd do with it, but I've got enough saved to replace the important stuff if I have to, or I could try finding a new sponsor, I'd probably need your help with that though, you know how I am with-"

Ito's long sigh easily cut off her rambling. "That won't be happening."

Her entire body twitched at the insinuation, she didn't want to believe that he meant what she thought he did.

"…Sensei?"

"Kase-san, I don't want to give up on you, you've got more raw talent and skill than anyone else I've ever trained and I know you're capable of great things – I saw it at Asiad and the IAAF championships – but it's becoming clear that you can't give this your all anymore," he said, voice heavy with long, halting pauses.

She was shaking her head slowly, but with how dry her mouth had suddenly gone, she couldn't say anything to interrupt him.

"I can't keep you as my main focus anymore, not when there are younger, more driven athletes who could also become greats if given the right training, it's not fair to leave them alone and it's not fair to expect more from you than you're willing to give."

Finally managing to force a choked sound from her throat, Tomoka launched into a stuttering outburst, "No, please! Look, I know I've not been at the top of my game for a long time now, but it's just a minor slump, I got complacent after the IAAF, but I can get better, I just, I just need to work harder, please give me another chance, if I don't have track…" _then I don't have anything._

There was a dreadfully long pause on the other end of the line – she could hear what sounded like Inoue's laughter in the distance, she was probably joking with the new kid who'd joined their training sessions – each second filling her with both hope and dread at the same time.

"I'm sorry, but even if you turned everything around right now, you're getting older, you won't have many years more left in you anyway; I'd rather spend those years on someone who hasn't already peaked."

He was right, of course. Even if she'd never really let it trouble her, she'd noticed how much quicker she ran out of breath, how her joints would crack and groan much louder than they ever had in her twenties and she always got a few surprised looks when she turned up at a competition, even though she wasn't really _that_ old, the stigma was strong in athletic circles.

She couldn't help but laugh at that, wincing at how bitter it sounded. "So, that's it?"

"I'm not going to stop you from coming to our training sessions if that's what you really want, or competing in your own time, but you'll not be getting personalised training anymore."

So, the option to just continue on like nothing had changed was still there, but it would be nothing more than a hollow performance. Still it wasn't like there was anything else she _could_ do; her entire life had been completely focused on the track, she had no other skills, no friends outside of those she trained and competed with, she didn't even have any hobbies that weren't running. The idea of stepping out of the comfortable, familiar, but collapsing home she'd built for herself, into a great, wide, unknowable void was even more terrifying than staying put, even knowing that she might be crushed by rubble any moment.

Ito made a thoughtful humming sound. "How about you take some time off – not a retirement, but an extended vacation."

"And do what?" she asked, not quite sure she liked the idea.

He huffed, from the 'swishing' she could hear he was probably waving a hand around frustratedly. "See old friends, visit family, catch up on tv or a novel, just relax and don't think about running or competitions for a few months. Maybe you'll remember why you loved it in the first place, maybe you'll decide that you want to retire and move on to something else, either way, it'll do you good to get some distance from it all for a while."

Picking at an annoying bit of fluff on her pillow, she pulled her knees up to her chest under the sheets. "Do I have a choice?"

"It's just a suggestion," Ito said, voice just a few degrees away from true irritation, "you have to start making these decisions for yourself though – I won't be babying you any longer."

She stayed quiet for a long moment to let that sink in.

Another distant shout crackled over the line, Ito's responding one was muffled – probably by his hand over his mobile. "Look," he said, voice once again low and close, "I've got to get back to the others, please at least think about it, for me, if not for yourself."

The 'Ok' had barely left her lips before he hung up, leaving Tomoka with ringing silence and such a complete sense of loss, that she wondered if she'd ever find herself again.

* * *

It had taken three hours and a screaming bladder to finally get her out of bed, but once she'd started moving she found that keeping that momentum was a hell of a lot easier than getting it in the first place. After using the bathroom and cleaning herself up a little – and finally changing out of last night's clothes – she'd even managed to walk down to the nearest corner store and pick up a few quick ready-meals.

She hadn't gotten around to actually _cooking_ one yet, but baby steps.

Unfortunately, all her half-hearted attempts at distraction hadn't managed to stop her mind from cycling through the same seven thoughts that she'd been trying to ignore ever since her conversation with her coach – no, she probably shouldn't call him that anymore, should she? – with _Ito-san_ this morning.

 _I'll never be able to run again._

 _What am I supposed to do now?_

 _How do I live without track? I can't live off savings forever and I can't get another job, I don't have any skills._

 _I wish I had someone to talk to about this._

 _Why do I feel so numb and apathetic, maybe I never actually cared that much to start with._

 _What's even the point of existing without track, not like I have anything else to offer to the world, I could die right now and nothing would change._

 _Seriously, what the_ fuck _do I do now?_

Over and over and over again, nagging away at the back of her head as she prodded absently at the plastic film covering a box of fried rice, never quite finding the will to just walk the four feet to the microwave and heat it up.

Groaning, she glanced at the blinking numbers hovering next to the vague shadow of the appliance – and when had it gotten so dark, she hadn't even noticed the dimming light outside.

17:43, not quite dinner time yet, so she could reasonably push back eating for another few hours, just so long as she carefully ignored the heavy weight of her stomach insistently reminding her that the last thing she'd eaten was half a portion of takeaway chicken katsu on the way home last night.

 _What am I supposed to do now?_

Tomoka half wanted to pull her hair out, but that would require more effort than she could really give right now. Why couldn't she just… do nothing? Not have to worry about working, or taking care of herself, or living, it'd be nice if she could just exist in a small, comfortable bubble where she never had to think about anything and could just sleep all day, maybe play games on her phone when she was feeling up to it.

Her head dropped heavily onto her crossed arms. God, she was pathetic, less than ten hours after being told she had been – for all intents and purposes – fired, and she was already thinking like a sullen teenager who was only just learning she didn't know how to be an adult.

Though now that she thought about it that wasn't too far from the truth; her quarter-life crisis was just a little later onset than most.

Did that mean she wouldn't be getting her mid-life crisis until she was in her sixties?

Rubbing her face vigorously into her arms, she finally pushed herself back up and grabbed her mobile, hands working more on memory than thought as they flicked and tapped.

If she was going to act like a teenager, then she might as well go all the way with it.

Only three rings and a warm, deeply familiar voice chirped out a greeting; for the first time in what had to be weeks, she actually _felt_ something – a tangled mess of warmth and a tightness in her chest that made it hard to reply.

"Ka-san, it's me."

Her mother immediately started making a barely-intelligible rush of noise, but she just about managed to pick out, "Hold on a moment, let me call your tou-san in," before she was cut off by excited yelling and the shuffling of feet and fabric.

She had to smile a little at their excitement, but she also couldn't help the twinge of guilt poking at her spine. It _had_ been a while since she last called…

A faint 'click' as the phone was switched to speaker and suddenly she could hear the subtle shifts and distant noises in the background, even as her parents started talking again.

"Tomoka," her dad's voice was a little hoarse, but still kind and loving – she wished she could actually see him though, receive one of his trademark bone-crushing hugs that always lifted her off her feet, then she'd do the same to her mother, who'd complain about being surrounded by giants but would hold her back just as tight – "it's good to hear from you."

She couldn't detect any resentment in his tone, but she couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling either. "Hey tou-san, hey ka-san, sorry it's been so long, the last few months have been really busy, what with the national championship and everything-"

"Oh yes! We watched the whole thing-" Tomoka winced slightly at that "-you did so well, even if you didn't place in the top three this time, we know you did your best and are both so proud of you!"

"Actually, that's kinda what I wanted to talk about," she said, hesitant and having to distract herself by fiddling with the still uncooked packet of rice on the table before her. She took a long, shaky breath. "Me and Ito-sensei were talking about it and we… we think it would be best for me to take some time off."

For a few seconds there was nothing, but her mother quickly started babbling faster than she could run.

"Time off? Oh, Tomoka what's wrong, are you sick? You should've told us sooner, is it something long-term? Have you gone to see a doctor yet? You know I heard that there was a nasty bug going around near Tokyo, are you resting and drinking enough? Why didn't Ito-san stop you from running if you were unwell, I should call him up an-"

"No! No, it's nothing like that, don't worry so much, I'm fine, I promise!" Perhaps if she laughed hard enough, she might convince herself of that. "I'm just… I've lost my drive I guess, I can't seem to put my all into track right now, coach says I need a vacation to recharge and stuff, you know?"

Her mother's sigh helped her to relax a little, but her dad's unconvinced hum quickly had her shoulders tensing again. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked.

Was she sure? No, absolutely not, she wasn't sure about _anything_ anymore, except that she was lost and confused and terrified. Maybe Ito-sensei was right, she'd spent so long focused on one thing, that any other life experiences had completely passed her by, a break from athletics might be what she needed to regain some direction.

Or maybe she was a hopeless cause, who'd already given all she had to offer to the world, who'd one day disappear without so much as a whisper.

All she knew right now, was that she _really_ wanted a hug from her parents.

"I… Yeah, I'm sure," she said, wishing she were able to stop her voice from cracking so badly. "Can- can I come home for a while?"


	2. Momentum Lost

So! a quick note before this chap (bc I completely forgot to put it on the first one whoops): while this fic is gonna be exploring depression, things are never going to get to the point of suicidal thoughts/attempts, just in case that might put anyone off (which is completely understandable and I'm not gonna hold that against anyone who still wants to give this a miss for their own mental wellbeing, even if this is going to be a fairly mild depiction) the farthest this fic in gonna go is that weird 'I don't want to kill myself I just want to.. not have to exist' feeling. This chap is actually quite a lot lighter than the first one, but that doesn't mean Kase is outta the woods just yet.

Anyways, this was a pretty fun chap to write, I'm still figuring out parts of their personalities but jfc I've kinda fallen in love with Kase's mum and dad, or at least the versions of them I have crafted from the.. Zero canon info we have on them. They're fun to write and hopefully fun to read as well!

Enjoy my lovelies!

* * *

The fields rolling past the window were barely visible now, just slightly darker shapes only discernible from the night sky by the lack of stars and occasional clusters of yellow-orange as they passed an isolated house or tiny village.

In the nearly two hours she'd been sitting on the train, Tomoka had already dozed off three times and she was tempted to do so again now, eyes heavy and thoughts slowing to a syrup-like crawl. Only the reminder that her stop would be coming up in ten minutes kept her fighting against that sweet, honeyed call of sleep.

This would be the first time she'd come home in over a year now – she vaguely remembered a time when she would visit her parents for every holiday, no matter how insignificant, but track and work and training had slowly been stealing away those visits – and she was a little nervous. On one hand, it would be nice to see her family again, to visit old haunts and see how her hometown had changed, but on the other…

It felt like admitting defeat.

She had officially failed at being an adult and this was her walk of shame. Train of shame. She managed to grin for two whole seconds, before gently dropping her forehead against the cold window with a groan. Wow, her brain had just completely given up, hadn't it?

Closing her eyes, she focused on the way the glass she was leaning against would jump and shudder as the wheels beneath her rolled over tiny seams in the rails.

No, she couldn't keep thinking like that, this wasn't an end, it was just a… a breather, a convalescence, she'd let her body and mind rest for a while and then return to life full-force, like she always had. This wasn't irresponsible, this was for her own health, her parents didn't mind, they were _happy_ , they'd finally be getting to see their daughter again, she wasn't burdening them with her useless, lazy, unmotivated-

A sudden jolt had her banging her head sharply against the window. Tomoka groaned and finally sat back up straight, gingerly rubbing the sore spot on her temple.

Brought sufficiently back to reality, she glanced at the view outside; no longer a dark, empty expanse, instead there were buildings and towers and streets dotted with lights, cars and people could be seen briefly before blurring out of sight. They were in the city now, just a few minutes and she'd be at her stop.

Shaking her head of unnecessary thoughts – which was pretty much _all_ of them if she were honest – she started adjusting her coat, hands brushing habitually against her pockets as she checked her things.

Phone, wallet, keys, ticket.

The bland, robotic voice informed the train that the next stop was approaching, please be careful stepping onto the platform and remember to take all your belongings.

Pulling her rucksack down from the overhead storage and shakily walking to the larger compartment where she'd left her suitcase, the doors had barely opened before Tomoka leapt out, immediately heading to the exit.

As conflicted as she felt, right now she only cared about one thing.

It was easy to pick out her father waiting on the other side of the turnstiles – there wasn't much of a crowd waiting there and even if there had been, he towered above most people by at least a few inches. Her hands were jittery as she struggled to feed her ticket into the machine which would free her and she just _barely_ restrained herself from barrelling towards her parents – sparse crowd in her way be damned – spending the entire walk studying their faces, trying to pick out the changes in their appearance, both major and minor.

The most drastic change was with her mother, who had dyed her hair yet again; this time a pastel purple, with subtle shades of pink and blue woven into it, from a distance she could easily be mistaken for a young adult with how vibrant and eclectic her fashion sense was, but she also wore her laughter-lines and crows' feet with pride. She liked the look, Tomoka decided, though she still had a soft spot for the bright, neon orange she'd had before it, and the stark white with black tips before that.

Though her favourite would _always_ be the rainbow style she'd surprised her daughter with for her very first pride march.

Her father looked much the same as the last time she'd seen him; big and soft and smiling at her like she'd brought the sun home with her, though age was starting to pull ever-more insistently at his features, barely any black hidden amongst the grey of his hair and the lines of his face even deeper than she remembered.

She dropped her bags long before she reached them, honestly not caring if someone tried to steal them. It was far more important to practically slam into her dad, warm, strong arms locking securely around her shoulders as he lifted her just slightly off the ground – far less than she remembered, had she grown, or he shrunk? – her own probably chocking him with how tightly they were wrapped around his neck. He mumbled some greeting that she was too busy sobbing to hear, but she nodded anyway and gave one last squeeze as he released her, she quickly turned to face her mum, already holding her arms up expectantly.

Dipping down, Tomoka eagerly accepted the invitation, easily lifting her a good foot off the ground, unable to stop the half-laugh-half-sob that pushed itself from her throat at the predictable grumbling in her ear about her becoming more leg than body every time she saw her.

They stayed in that bubble of teary, joyful reunion for a few more minutes, barely even noticing the people parting around them – though her dad at least had the presence of mind to collect her things while his wife was performing her ritual full-body check of her daughter, just to make sure she hadn't forgotten any important body parts.

By the time they finally decided to stop making a scene in public and head home for a late dinner, there were tears running down Tomoka's face, only slightly helped by the crumpled tissue offered to her by her father.

It was messy and embarrassing, but she was glad to know that she could still _feel_ something.

Each hand firmly clasped by one of her parents, they walked out into the bitterly cold night, laughing and crying and leaning on each other as they stumbled home.

* * *

It was funny how, after only a few seconds, she immediately felt a deep comfort stepping into her childhood home. Even after so many years away, the smell that hit her like a wall as soon as the front door opened made her feel like a kid again, reminded her of a time she was completely sure of herself and her place in the world – it didn't last for very long before reality and her own nagging doubts started tapping at her heels, but the hazy, warm nostalgia she was swimming in was definitely dulling them somewhat.

The scent must've been embedded into the walls or something; the musk of her dad's favourite sandalwood incense sticks and paints not _quite_ enough to cover the metallic tang of sports equipment and sweat. Even more intriguing than any of that though…

"Is that oden I can smell?"

Her dad hummed as he carefully untied the laces of his shoes. "Of course, I wouldn't let you come home to anything other than your favourite dinner."

She could already feel her eyes watering again, especially when hands firmly pushed her away from the kitchen and towards the stairs instead. Tomoka glanced over her shoulder to look down at her mother.

"Why don't you go up to your room and settle yourself in a little, I need to get the table laid anyway, and then we can all have a nice relaxed evening, what do you think?" she asked, smiling gently.

Right now, she could _really_ go for that oden, but once she sat down and started eating, there was a very good chance she'd never get back up again; probably best to at least get some of her luggage put away now while she had a bit of momentum. Nodding, she hauled her bags up off the floor and started the awkward task of manoeuvring them upstairs.

Before she'd even reached the top, her dad's low voice called out, "Do you want some help unpacking?"

"Nah, I'm fine, you just keep an eye on dinner, else ka-san's mere presence might make it explode," she called back, flashing him a quick, knowing grin. He smiled back, clearly trying and failing to conceal a snort.

"Indoor voice when you're talking about someone behind their back, sweetie!"

Tomoka snickered, shouting an apology as she lugged her things to her old bedroom. She'd forgotten those fun moments she always used to have with her parents, forgotten how _easy_ it once was to be around people. Lightly kicking the door open, she shuffled in, hand automatically slapping at the wall until it hit the lights, brief flash blinding her momentarily.

She was halfway across the room before she realised that the bed she was about to flop down onto wasn't there, it was in fact pressed into the far corner, right next to the window.

Blinking as though maybe that would suddenly make her room go back to how it was in her head, she looked around, this time actually taking in her surroundings.

Her bed had apparently been switched with her desk, both neatly made and lacking much of any decoration, there was none of her old training equipment scattered everywhere – though since she'd taken that with her when she first moved out that was hardly a surprise – the walls had been freshly painted and there was a new rug and bookcase to replace the ones she was more familiar with.

It shouldn't be so surprising; she'd known her mother had tidied her room a few months after she'd made the permanent move to Tokyo – she'd called to ask permission herself – and it wasn't like she had any reason to be upset about it – she wasn't using the room, she'd taken everything she cared about with her when she left and the house wasn't that big, so having a guest bedroom would've been useful to her parents – and she wasn't upset, not really, she was just… shaken. No, even that was too strong a word, more like she was vaguely jarred, the same feeling one got when going to sit in their usual seat, only to find someone else already there.

The room was still familiar, the dimensions and shapes and placement of major features like the door and window were exactly as she remembered them and the omnipresent homely scent still hung in the air, it was just the details that had her feeling slightly off-kilter.

Closing her eyes for a second, her mind helpfully overlaid the familiar – if slightly fuzzy – layout against the black of her eyelids.

She opened them again, turned to face the bed tucked under the window, stepped towards it, and flung herself down onto it face-first, bouncing slightly as she hit the hard mattress. It felt just like she remembered, though the new sheets were too soft against her face and it was strange having the tapping of branches against glass so close to her ears.

It'd take some getting used to, but she was hardly lacking for time.

* * *

How was it possible for a single meal to give her so much life? Barely halfway through her first helping – and there were sure to be more, she wasn't sure if her appetite had been influenced by her dad's huge portions, or if it was the other way around, but either way she was incredibly grateful – and she felt like someone who'd just stumbled from an empty desert wasteland, into a lavish, plentiful feast, cheerfully greeted and pulled into a seat before she could even comprehend what turn she'd taken to get here.

The warmth in her belly settled far deeper than huddling in her cocoon of blankets had done for her this last week and she couldn't remember the last time she'd actually enjoyed eating, instead of absently going through the motions because that's just what you _do_.

Had this been the answer all along? A good meal and her parents' soothing chatter across the dinner table? Was it this simple the whole time?

"That's an awfully intent stare you're giving that egg Tomoka, is something wrong with it?"

Her father's words and gentle nudge shook her out of her thoughts, she grinned and stabbed the thing with her chopsticks, shoving the whole thing into her mouth in a single bite. "'s goo'," she said, words mangled through her mouthful.

Dark eyes rolled to the ceiling, but he still smiled and gave a small nod. "That's good then, there's plenty more, so eat as much as you want."

There were words left unspoken there, but she didn't need to hear them out loud to know what he was thinking. She frowned slightly, trying not to let the heavy weight that had suddenly settled in her stomach stop her from swallowing the egg, or overpower the taste she'd been enjoying so much just a few seconds ago.

He wasn't judging her, he wasn't accusing, he was just subtly hinting that she'd lost some weight.

Well, if he was worried about her eating properly, then she might as well go for another serving anyways, right? Purely to reassure him, of course.

Not at all because she didn't want anyone asking the kind of questions that train of thought would lead to.

"So, what's been happening around here while I've been gone?" she asked, already shovelling food into her mouth at a rate that would probably worry anyone who hadn't known her all her life. "You still rock-climbing ka-san?"

Her mother snorted, carelessly waving a chunk of tofu around as she made a vague hand gesture. "Quit that months ago, you can only climb the same wall so many times before you get sick of it; I've gone back to cycling for now, though Ando-kun has been trying to get me to join his dance classes, so I might try that next."

Tomoka couldn't help snickering at that, it was _so_ like her mum to be so indecisive.

She'd always been active and sporty – everyone agreed Tomoka had gotten her own athleticism from her – but, unlike her daughter, she just couldn't seem to stick to a single sport for more than a few months, she must've tried everything under the sun at least once, from football to wrestling, cycling to abseiling.

Growing up with such an adventurous mother had been good though, she'd always encouraged her to try anything she had interest in and cheered her on once she'd found her calling.

Her stomach clenched again; how was she supposed to tell her that all that had been for nothing?

A silence settled heavily over the table as she started taking even bigger bites of her dinner – anything to avoid talking – not uncomfortable, exactly, but teetering on the fine line between comfortable familiarity and burning uncertainty.

Of course, Kase Mayumi was never one to hold herself back. "So, is it a girl?"

Almost choking on a bite of potato, Tomoka had to slap a hand against her chest a few times. "Ka-saaaan," she groaned, voice still rough around the edges.

"Whaaat~ I'm just asking!" Her smile was teasing, but her narrowed eyes were deadly serious.

Pouting slightly, Tomoka swirled the remains of her oden with her chopsticks. She might be uncommitted when it came to sports, but her mother didn't half-ass things when it came to her family, the chances that she'd accept 'nothing's wrong' as an answer were less than zero percent, neither would her father for that matter – though his prodding and worrying would at least be more subtle.

But she couldn't tell them. She didn't want to, not if it would mean revealing that their perfect daughter was actually a complete mess of a human being, that the girl they'd once known and loved was just a convenient mask now, an act put on because she didn't have any others to fall back on.

She was just a mindless robot performing the same old tricks, because that was familiar and _easy_.

"There's no girl, I haven't even met anyone new in ages," she sighed, grabbing her bowl and downing the broth left at the bottom.

A large hand patted her shoulder lightly before she'd even put it down, she glanced up at her dad warily. "You know you can always tell us what's on your mind, right?" he said, slow and gentle and caring and _just too much_ for her right now.

The chair screeched against the wood floor as she jerked to her feet, gathering up her dishes and striding determinedly to the sink.

"Tomo-"

"Whew, that was really great tou-san!" she practically shouted, dropping her bowl into the prepared soapy water. "Sorry I can't eat more, but I'm pretty tired from all the travelling, think I'll just get an early night, is it alright if I leave the dishes for now? I'll do them in the morning, promise."

She didn't wait for an answer, already rushing out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time in her eagerness to get away.

As she staggered her way to bed – making a sharp ninety degree turn as she remembered the room's new layout – faint conversation filtered up through the floor. Stripping off her jeans and _only_ her jeans, she burrowed her way under the blankets and curled herself into a tight ball, legs cringing away from the cool sheets.

The moonlight shining through her closed eyelids kept her awake for hours.


End file.
